


Catch You Later

by Tea_For_One_Please



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Peter Parker, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Harley Keener is a little shit, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Peter Parker is a Mess, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, These boys are going to kill me I swear, Young Love, background pepperony, mutual crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-03-17 06:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18959578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_For_One_Please/pseuds/Tea_For_One_Please
Summary: "So, there's this boy.""Yeah?" Peter heard the mischief in his aunt's voice and blushed harder. "What about the girl you went to the dance with?"Peter shrugged. "I don't know.""But this boy - you like him?" Her voice was serious again. "You don't have to say if you don't want to.""Yeah," he said heavily. "I think I do. Is that weird?"





	1. A Very Generous Offer - Peter

“So, there’s about fifty reporters behind that door – real ones, not bloggers. When you’re ready, why don’t you try that on…” Tony Stark pressed a button on his wrist controls and a door slid open to reveal a brand-new Spider-Man suit. “…then I’ll introduce the world to the newest official member of the Avengers – Spider-Man.” Peter almost burst out laughing in shock. “Yeah, give that a look!” his mentor said proudly. Peter gazed at the suit; Tony was still talking, but Peter did not even slightly register what he was saying. After a long moment, Peter turned back.

“Thank you, Mr Stark,” he said earnestly, “but I’m… I’m good.” He thought he saw a flicker of surprise in his mentor’s eyes.

“You’re ‘good’? Good… How are you good?” Yes, if Peter didn’t know better, he would definitely say that Tony Stark was baffled.

“Well, I mean, I – I’d just, I’d rather stay on the ground for a while,” Peter stammered. “Friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.” He grinned to hide his nervousness. “Somebody’s gotta look out for the little guy, right?”

“You’re turning me down?” Tony gave him a stern look. “You’d better think about this. Look at that.” He pointed back at the shiny new suit in the display cabinet. “Look at me.” Peter obeyed. “Last chance: yes or no?”

“No,” Peter said, firmly and without hesitation.

“Okay,” Tony said, with his signature brief nod. “It’s that kind of Springsteen-y working-class hero vibe that I dig.” Peter hardly had time to reflect on what the hell that meant before he continued. “Uh, Happy’ll take you home.” He looked over. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Happy stepped forward, hiding his astonishment less convincingly than Tony. “Mind waiting in the car? I need a minute.”

Peter nodded. “Thank you, Mr Stark.”

“Yes, Mr Parker. Very well.”

“See you around,” Peter said, before stepping back, smiling quietly to himself. He walked a few feet before turning back and saying, “That was a test, right? There’s nobody back there?”

“Yes, you passed,” Tony said, almost instantly. Peter beamed. “Alright, skedaddle there, young buck.”

“Thank you, Mr Stark, thank you!”

“Yeah, thank you!” Tony watched him leave with a bemused grimace on his face.

“Told you he’s a good kid,” Peter heard Happy say as he bounced away. As he descended the stairs, he thought he could hear Pepper from above him, sounding stressed, but couldn’t fathom why this might be, so shrugged it off.

 

“Goodbye, Mr Parker,” FRIDAY intoned as the doors slid open ahead of him. He gave a quick wave to the security camera, but shoved his hand quickly in his pocket as he saw a boy about his age approaching him. The boy looked around and smirked.

“Who were you waving to?” he asked innocently. Peter flushed. After his moment of utter success comes this (incredibly cute) boy catching him waving at a supercomputer. Spectacular.

“I wasn’t,” was his reflexive response. “I, uh, had an itch.” In a feeble attempt to support the lie, he raised a hand into his hair and scratched his head. The boy raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Okay, sure,” he said. “Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m, uh, Parter Peeker,” he said, and his face turned even more scarlet. “I mean, I’m Spider-Peter. Shit. I’m Peter Parker! I’m Mr Stark’s intern; I help make Spider-Man’s equipment.”

“Right,” said the boy, who was clearly trying not to laugh. “So you’re the infamous intern? My name’s Harley, Harley Keener. I’m the future CEO of Stark Industries.”

“Huh, cool. Wait, what?”

“You heard me. I’d love to stay and chat but I have a press conference to attend. Surprised you’re not going, since you’re the intern.” He flicked his shades back over his eyes. “Catch you later, Parker.”

“Press… conference..?” Peter’s voice trailed off as he watched Harley stroll into the Avengers compound, his heart sinking. “Passed the test, my ass,” he sighed, shaking his head and walking towards Happy’s car, his thoughts lingering on Harley. Maybe he’d go out on patrol tonight to cool off.

 

* * *

 

 

“What the _fuck_?!” Peter froze in horror. Could this day get in any way worse?

“Aunt May, this is not what it looks like,” he said, turning to face her and forcing himself to stay calm.

“Then you’d better have a damned good explanation,” she said, her voice shrill and breathless.

“It’s… a cosplay,” he said. “I went to a convention tonight, not Ned’s. I’m sorry for lying.”

“Bullshit,” she said promptly. “I just saw you drop from the ceiling.” Peter opened his mouth to retort but found he had none. “Was that part of your ‘cosplay’, Peter?” Still words failed him. “And the Stark internship, was that a lie too?”

“Sort of,” Peter said. “I do work with Tony Stark. He made me the suit.” May pressed a finger to her left temple and closed her eyes.

“Just tell me you’re safe,” she said, all anger gone from her voice, which threw Peter. “Please?”

“No,” he admitted. “I mean, sort of. My body heals itself faster than normal people, and my reflexes are really fast, so I can dodge things easier.” His aunt stared at him and shook her head in dismay. “I stopped a bus crash tonight,” he said quietly. “I’m doing good.” She bit her lip and shook her head again.

“You’re a lunatic,” she said. “Would you stop, if I told you to?”

“No,” he said, as confidently as he had to Tony Stark earlier that day.

“Then that’s that,” she shrugged.

“Really?” said Peter. “You’ll let me keep doing it?”

“I don’t seem to have a choice,” she said, a slightly hysterical laugh in her voice. “Just make sure you always come back, won’t you?”

“Promise,” Peter nodded, and crossed the room to hug her.

 

* * *

 

 

3:56… 3:57… 3:58… Peter tapped his pen against the table, eyes glued to the clock and paying no attention to what his teacher was saying. He felt a gentle nudge in his left arm, and only tapped harder. Suddenly someone punched him hard. He jumped, stifled a yelp and gave MJ a look which clearly said _what the hell was that for?_ She raised her eyebrows and waved her pen at him, with a look which clearly said _shut up, idiot._ He grimaced an apology and tapped it against his sleeve instead. Suddenly the bell sounded across the school, and Peter hastily shoved his things into his backpack and fled from the room.

“Peter, wait up!” He glanced round and saw Ned hurrying towards him.

“Hey, man, I gotta run, but I’ll call you later, yeah?” Ned’s face fell.

“I thought we were going to Grand Central?” Peter slapped a hand to his face.

“Shit, the video games exhibition,” he groaned. “I completely forgot. I’m so sorry, man, I’m going upstate for the weekend.” His friend’s face lit up again.

“Like, upstate-upstate?” Peter glanced around and nodded. “Dude, that’s so cool!”

“So you’re not mad?”

“Nah, that’s so much better than some dumb exhibition!” Ned said excitedly. “I mean, I say that, but I’m still going.”

“You totally should,” said Peter quickly. “Send me pictures, yeah?” He clapped Ned on the back and vanished.

 

He bounced on his heels as he waited for the train. He didn’t know why he was so antsy; after all, it wasn’t the first time he’d spent the entire weekend at the Avengers compound. Actually, with a moment or two’s thought, he knew exactly why he was on edge. He wanted to ‘accidentally’ run into the cute boy he had met there the previous afternoon. He dropped his little suitcase as he stepped onto the train, and had to snatch it up quickly to prevent it from blocking the doors as they slid shut. He bounced his leg as the train trundled along; it had started to rain, and he traced the raindrops on the window with his finger, the grey Manhattan buildings blending into the darkening sky.

A half hour later, he had left the city and the river behind, and was looking out over rolling fields. After another half hour, he was stepping off the train and underneath the umbrella Happy held out for him. They chatted until they could see the car, then Happy said, “Oh, I forgot to say, there’s another kid that got off the train too.”

“Oh, okay,” said Peter.

“Keener’s already in the car. Have you met him?” Happy said, as he took Peter’s case and stowed it in the trunk of the car.

“Uh, yeah,” said Peter. He opened the door and there was the boy he had met the previous day. “Hi,” he said, a little breathlessly.

“Hey, Parter Peeker,” Harley said, the same mischievous smile plastered on his face. Peter felt his cheeks heat up as he remembered the embarrassing conversation they'd had as he was leaving the compound.

“Oh, god,” was all he could think to say, and Harley chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.” Peter smiled nervously. “I am extremely intimidating,” he added solemnly, which made Peter laugh.

“So, uh, where are you from?” Peter asked, making a desperate stab at talking about anything other than his own social failings.

“Tennessee,” Harley said, exaggerating his mild southern drawl, making Peter smile again. “Before you ask, I met Tony when he broke into my garage to mend the Iron Man suit.” Peter saw Happy shudder as he got in the car.

“I’m intrigued,” he said, and as Happy started their journey, Harley launched into a long account of his shenanigans with Iron Man, after which Peter recounted the time Tony had saved his life at his Expo a few years beforehand. Harley responded by telling him how Spider-Man had saved him that very morning, while Peter tried hard to sound surprised, avoiding Happy’s eye in the rear-view mirror. By the time Happy pulled up outside the compound, Peter’s initial nerves had subsided – unlike the twisty feeling in his stomach whenever Harley smiled at him. What was that about?


	2. Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man - Harley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the morning to himself, Harley goes sightseeing in New York City, and gets into a spot of bother.

Harley lifted up his sunshades as he stepped out of his new car and tucked them into his messy hair. Well, the car was new to him, anyway. Almost nothing he owned was _actually_ new. He was very proud of it though, as he had saved for it himself: apart from Christmas and birthday presents, he had bought nothing else since he’d taken his weekend job. He had only bought it two weeks ago. _Best three thousand dollars I’ve ever spent_ , he thought fondly as he patted its wing mirror. Of course, the minute Tony Stark had contacted him about training him up to eventually take over Pepper Potts’ job, he had packed in the job to spend his weekends at the Avengers compound. After all, Tony had agreed to put him up and pay his travel expenses, which was really all he needed the money for right now. When he eventually graduated, he knew he would probably have to rethink, but for now, the arrangement worked. This time round, though, he was coming for the whole week to observe operations, and he was really looking forward to it.

He walked swiftly up the driveway, as he knew he was late. Normally he arrived late evening, as it was a hell of a drive from Rose Hill – over twelve hours – but Tony was holding a press conference and had asked him to attend. As he approached the front doors, a boy in a t-shirt, grey hoodie and jeans was strolling leisurely out, waving at no one and looking a little starstruck. Harley noticed the t-shirt had a corny science joke (or something) on it, and the boy looked so flustered when he noticed him that Harley had to try hard not to laugh. Damn it, he was cute.

“Who were you waving to?” he asked innocently. The boy blushed an even deeper shade of crimson.

“I wasn’t,” he replied immediately. “I, uh, had an itch.” Before Harley had a chance to call bullshit, the boy lamely scratched the back of his head. Harley felt his eyebrow twitch sceptically,

“Okay, sure,” he grinned. “Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m, uh, Parter Peeker,” the boy stammered, and it was at this moment that the image of grabbing him by his hoodie and kissing him flashed across Harley’s mind. The boy had started speaking again and Harley tuned in, keen for another laugh. “…I mean, I’m Spider-Peter.” Wait… what? “Shit. I’m Peter Parker! I’m Mr Stark’s intern; I help make Spider-Man’s equipment.” Oh, that made more sense. Harley would not have believed that the boy in front of him could be Spider-Man. He looked small and scrawny, and couldn’t be older than fifteen. Maybe it was just the oversized hoodie, though.

“Right, so you’re the infamous intern?” he said, smirking at the stories Tony had told him about his intern practically setting the lab ceiling on fire, and the like. “My name’s Harley, Harley Keener.” Then, for good measure, he added, “I’m the future CEO of Stark Industries.”

“Huh, cool,” Peter said absently, before seeming to come back to earth. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me,” Harley said, smiling mischievously at him. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a press conference to attend. Surprised you’re not going, since you’re the intern.” He put his sunshades back on and offered Peter a two-fingered salute. “Catch you later, Parker.” He thought he heard Peter mutter something, but when he glanced back the boy was wandering off to one of the cars with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Harley shook his head. “‘Catch you later, Parker’?” he sighed. “Get it together, Harley.”

 

He jogged up the stairs into the conference room, where Tony and Pepper were standing at the front of the room. Harley grinned at the billionaire as he caught his eye and raised a hand in greeting. “I have a big announcement today,” Tony said grandly, reaching into his jacket pocket. “I’d like to thank you all for attending this important moment in our lives. And, boy, am I going to look stupid if this goes wrong.” Harley barely had time to register this peculiar statement before Tony pulled out a ring knelt down in front of Pepper. Gasps filled the room, and the flashes of cameras lit up the room. “Pepper Potts, these last nine years, you have stuck by me, put up with my insane schemes, but by some miracle never let me get too big for myself.” Harley’s jaw dropped. “You simply being here has made me the happiest man in the world. Will you marry me?” It did not escape Harley’s notice that Pepper didn’t seem remotely surprised by this pronouncement.

“Of course I will,” she smiled fondly, holding out a hand so that Tony could slide the ring onto her finger. Tony stood up and kissed her, as the cameras flashed up a lights display. Tony answered a few questions before adjourning the press conference and beckoning Harley over.

“What the hell was that?” Harley hissed. “You told me you were initiating Spider-Man today!”

“Change of plan,” Tony said out of the corner of his mouth, still smiling at the leaving reporters. “He didn’t fancy being an Avenger.”

“Unbelievable,” Harley said. “I suppose Parker’ll be glad he didn’t stay. I wouldn’t have come if I’d known I’d only get to watch you and Pepper making out.” Tony swatted at him, but he dodged it and smirked.

“You met Parker already?” said Tony, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he was leaving as I arrived.”

“Little shit must have clocked off early,” Tony said. “Thought I wouldn’t notice. What do you think of him?”

“He seems nice enough,” said Harley, which was an appropriate way of saying that he sort of wanted to run his hands through his dark curls and kiss him under a tree in the pouring rain. Or something less intense and sappy. Tony merely sniffed.

 

The following day Harley rose early, so he could take the train into the city and do some sightseeing. Recently Pepper had been forcing Tony to take time off, so nobody worked Friday mornings – criminal masterminds and alien incursions aside, of course. It was not his first time in New York City, but it was the first time he had come alone. He deduced the second he stepped off the train that he was going to annoy the hell out of the resident New Yorkers. Every one of them walked faster than he, and he was jostled from pillar to post as he tried to make his way out of Grand Central. The other thing he noticed was that nobody looked up unless they were holding a camera. Everyone walked fast, looking down and not making eye contact. It was about eight in the morning, and everybody seemed to be on their way to work. No one was paying any attention to the impossibly tall buildings, or admiring the massive screens as he passed through Times Square.

He occasionally paused to check the map on his phone, and whenever this happened he would nearly be pushed to the ground by a speeding pedestrian behind him. It was most aggravating. One time when this happened a man pushed him hard, and Harley stumbled into the adjacent alley. He regained his balance and saw the man, along with one other, approaching him menacingly. He instinctively backed away. “Hey there, country boy,” said one of them with a smirk. “New to the city?” Harley couldn’t find a response, but nodded nervously.

“Little guy like you shouldn’t be wandering around alone,” added the other, and Harley very nearly retorted. Both men, admittedly, were taller than he, but in his defence, they were both clearly over six foot, and since he was pushing five-foot-ten, he could hardly be called ‘little’.

“Just hand over your phone and wallet and we’re all good,” said the first man, holding out a hand.

“No,” said Harley in an uncharacteristically small voice.

“Now, now,” sneered the second man, reaching into his pocket. “You sure you don’t want to reconsider?” Harley suppressed a gasp as the man pulled a small pistol from his jacket.

“Phone and wallet,” snarled the first man. Harley felt like he was about to pass out, but then he heard a voice from somewhere above them.

“Hey, guys, you know there’s an ATM at the end of the street, right?” All three of them looked up to see a blur of red, black and blue dropping towards them. Harley’s eyes widened in amazement as Spider-Man touched down gracefully, separating him from his attackers. A thin white string flew towards the gun, yanking it from his grip. The first man took a swing at Harley’s saviour, which he easily dodged. “Here’s a tip, buddy: next time aim for the space above my left shoulder and you might actually hit me.” He shoved his knee into his abdomen, winding him. “Oh, sorry, did that hurt?” The man stumbled back against the alley wall, and promptly found his hands webbed up, binding him. The second man tried approaching from behind to attack Spider-Man, who simply reached over his shoulder, leaned forward and threw his opponent to the ground, before webbing him firmly to the concrete. “Stick around,” he said shortly, before turning toward Harley. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he breathed. “Thanks, Spider-Man.”

“No problem,” he shrugged. “Be careful, yeah?”

“I’ll try,” Harley smiled.

“Damn! I’m late. Take it easy, kid.” Spider-Man leaped into the air, zipped up to the roof of one of the buildings and disappeared. Harley shook his head, wondering why the masked hero’s voice sounded vaguely familiar, before stepping back into the steady stream of commuters.


	3. A Quiet Evening In? - Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Tony and Pepper out for the evening, Peter and Harley have the compound to themselves. What could possibly go wrong?

That evening seemed destined to be a quiet affair: Tony and Pepper were attending some high-society party to which Peter and Harley were absolutely not invited, so Tony had left them some money and told them to order whatever they wanted. It occurred to Peter – not for the first time – that Tony really had no idea how much things in the real world actually cost, as he had left them two hundred and fifty dollars for their dinner. And, since most of the Avengers were presently either fugitives, off-world, or under house arrest, that meant that the two boys had the entire compound to themselves, and more money than Peter had ever seen in one place in his life.

After Tony and Pepper had left, they spent the first hour or so alone in the lab. Peter was continuing with his project from the last two weeks or so – or rather, projects. For the first, he was attempting to combine his web grenade tech with a trip wire, so that the web detonated when somebody walked past it, useful for infiltrations. The other was a more elasticated web fluid, which he hoped would be more suitable for breaking people’s falls, rather than jolting them to a stop when he caught them (he was thinking of the elevator incident in D.C.). However, his last attempt had shown his disastrous multitasking skills, as he had proudly presented a trip mine that repeatedly bounced the victim against the nearest wall. Tony had nearly given himself a hernia laughing.

Across the room, Harley had in front of him a laptop with an accounts sheet, along with what looked like the chassis of a new bot design.

“I need the bathroom,” Peter announced suddenly, slipping one of his prototypes into the pocket of his jeans.

“Great, have fun with that,” Harley said drily, not looking up from what he was doing. Peter slipped out of the lab and headed upstairs. He did go to the bathroom, but not until he had attached the trip mine to the frame of the main doors. Tony would get quite the surprise when he returned home – probably slightly tipsy – later that night. Peter smirked and headed off to the bathroom.

 

When he returned to the lab, Harley was spinning idly in his chair.

“I’m bored,” he said. “And hungry,” he added for good measure. Peter glanced over and couldn’t suppress a smile. It was nice to be reminded occasionally that Harley was, at heart, just as much of a stupid teenager as him.

“Well, Mr Stark said we could order what we liked,” Peter said, picking up his second prototype so he could 3D-print a few more. “What do you fancy?”

“Pizza,” Harley said very seriously, after a moment’s deliberation. He pulled out his cell phone. “Toppings?”

“Plain cheese is good,” Peter said.

“Basic,” he heard Harley mutter. Peter let out a silent breath of amusement and squinted at the buttons on the 3D printer. He hadn’t noticed that it had gotten dark.

“FRIDAY? Lights, please.” Instantly the room became brighter. “Thanks.” Behind him, Harley snorted good-naturedly.

“You know you don’t have to thank robots, right?”

“Of course I don’t have to,” said Peter indignantly. “But I like to think that come the revolution, the AIs will like me more if I’m polite to them now.”

“You’re ridiculous,” said Harley, but there was not a trace of malice in his words, and Peter felt that stupid grin returning to his face. Damn it. So much for being cool and enigmatic. Harley made the call, and Peter returned to his desk. Harley meandered over, leaned on the back of Peter’s chair, and rested his chin on the top of Peter’s head. Peter thought he felt his heart stop in his chest. “Whatcha working on?” Harley said, once again exaggerating his southern lilt. This, of course, started Peter’s heart again, and he forced a reply.

“Trip mine,” he choked out. “But like, with webs,” he added more confidently.

“Badass,” said Harley, impressed. He stood up straight again, lifted himself onto Peter’s workbench and swung his legs underneath the desk. “Shame Spider-Man hasn’t shown up today. I’d like to meet the guy under less embarrassing circumstances.”

“Getting mugged isn’t embarrassing,” said Peter, tilting his head up a few inches to look at his companion. “Not when it was your first day in the city.” Harley frowned.

“I didn’t tell you that. How do you know I hadn’t been to the city before?” Peter froze again, for an entirely different reason. The only reason he knew that was because he’d heard the mugger say it that morning, and seen Harley nod in response. But of course, he couldn’t tell Harley that. Time to start lying again.

“Just assumed,” he said, desperately hoping this was convincing. “Was it your first time?”

“Yeah, as it happens,” said Harley, chewing his lip. “Don’t tell Tony, will you?” Peter could not get over how Harley just referred to his mentor by his first name. He could never bring himself to do that.

“Of course not,” Peter said quickly. “There’s plenty I don’t tell him, don’t worry!”

“Oh, really?” Harley lowered both the volume and the pitch of his voice and shifted an inch closer along the desk. “Like what?”

 _Excellent, Pete,_ he thought. _All of these stories are Spider-Man stories._ Time to lie again. “One time,” he began, inventing wildly, “I borrowed a prototype webshooter I was working on and took it home with me.”

“Is that it?” Harley said, unimpressed.

“Of course not! Everyone at school knows I intern here, so I put our school bully, Flash, into his place by webbing him to the wall.”

“Surely the teachers know you work here too..?” Harley said.

“Oh yeah, I got detention for three weeks,” Peter nodded. “Worth it.” Harley laughed aloud, and Peter was congratulating himself for this apparently convincing story when FRIDAY spoke up.

“Mr Parker, Mr Keener, your unhealthy sustenance has arrived.”

“Okay, I know for a fact that you can say the words ‘pizza delivery’,” said Peter. “Did Mr Stark tell you to say that?”

“So much for being polite,” chuckled Harley. “You keep going with that, I’ll go get the food.”

“Thanks,” said Peter, who was looking at a circuit board through a magnifying glass and grateful not to have to move. He heard Harley counting out the money as he left; forty-five seconds later, he heard a surprised yell from somewhere above him. Peter jumped to his feet and activated his webshooters, the magnifying glass falling off his face. For a moment, he was convinced the compound was under attack. However, a moment of rational thought led him to the correct conclusion, and he clapped a hand to his forehead. _Shit._

 

He pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his webshooters as he dashed up the stairs, where he saw Harley webbed tightly to the wall, and an astonished young woman holding a small pile of pizza boxes. Clearly the trip mine was an unqualified success.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter said sincerely to Harley as he approached. “I’ll pay for the pizza, then I’ll get you down." He prised the money from Harley’s hands and gave the bemused delivery girl what they owed, plus a generous tip as an encouragement to not tell the press what she had witnessed. Peter then ran to the med-bay to find a scalpel. “Stay still,” he ordered Harley, before proceeding to cut through the web strands.

“Well,” said Harley once he was free, “at least we know your trip mine works.” Peter burst out laughing. “You know what else, Parker?”

“What?” Peter said, wiping his eyes and still giggling.

“I’m going to kill you,” said Harley, the cheeky glint back in his eyes. Peter fled, with Harley in hot pursuit. He ran from room to room, vaulting over couches and banisters, aware that he was vaguely pushing the boundaries of what was standard parkour.

 

Finally he thought he’d lost his pursuer, until Harley dropped down from a balcony above him in a surprising display of stealthy athleticism. Peter let out an embarrassing shriek as the two of them toppled to the ground. They wrestled for a minute, until Peter let Harley pin him down. “Gotcha,” Harley almost whispered, his voice impossibly soft. Peter thought he might melt, and one of his hands moved unbidden to brush Harley’s hair out of his eyes. He propped himself up on his elbows, and blushed as he became aware that Harley was quite literally straddling him and gazing at him. Harley seemed not to have noticed. How was he this damned attractive? How dare he? His dark blond curls were still hanging low across his forehead, his clear grey eyes fixed on Peter. For the first time, Peter was close enough to notice the faint dusting of freckles spread across the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones. God, Peter wanted to kiss him.

“Harley,” Peter started, his voice lower than he expected. The other boy was suddenly shaken out of his reverie, scrambled off Peter and stood up.

“Let’s go eat,” he said hastily. With that, he was gone.

 

For the rest of the evening, there was an atmosphere. To most it was probably almost indiscernible, but Peter sensed it, his heightened senses yelling at him the whole night. They ate their pizza, they chatted, and what started as a friendly match on Tony’s state-of-the-art video game console became a heated competition. Romantic tension aside, it was not dissimilar, Peter thought, to how he might have spent an evening with Ned and MJ – albeit on a bigger budget. But they didn’t address what happened; Peter was too nervous, and Harley seemed quite content pretending nothing had happened at all, so that was that.

A little before midnight, Peter bade Harley good night, before ascending the stairs and collapsing fully-dressed onto his bed. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and scanned through his call log until he saw the name of the person he wanted to talk to. He hit “Call” and held the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. He heard a click as the call connected. “Hey, sweetie,” his aunt said, her voice tired but cheerful and alert.

“Hey, Aunt May.”

“It’s pretty late, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said softly. “How… how was your day?”

“Oh, it went fine,” she said vaguely. “Not much to report. Did you have a nice evening with Mr Stark?” A very faint edge came into her voice as she mentioned Tony’s name. Had it really only been a day since she had found out he was Spider-Man? It seemed so much longer.

“No, he and Pepper are out tonight.”

“You’re not there by yourself?”

“Oh, no,” he reassured her. “There’s another boy here, he’s being trained up to take over from Pepper someday.”

“Oh, that’s nice for you,” she said, sounding relieved.

“I wanted to talk to you,” said Peter nervously. He could tell he was blushing.

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“It’s about this boy,” he said, forcing his voice to be steady. “I’m… I don’t know.”

“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Peter heard the mischief in his aunt’s voice and blushed harder. There was a pause. “What about the girl you went to the dance with?”

“Liz?” said Peter. He shrugged, then realised the futility of this gesture. “I don’t know.” Translation: _it’s always awkward when it turns out your date’s dad is the criminal mastermind who tried to kill you, like, three times._

“But this boy – you like him?” Her voice was serious again. “You don’t have to say if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah,” he said heavily. “I think I do. Like him, I mean. Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” she said firmly. “I love you, Peter, I don’t care who you date, as long as you’re happy.” Peter hugged his arms close to his chest and bit his cheeks. He would not cry. “Do you think he likes you?”

“I don’t know,” he said again. “I wondered, but… I don’t know. We had a moment, but then it was over, and we didn’t talk about it.”

“You should,” she said gently. “Doesn’t have to be now, but before the weekend’s out and you come home, you should say something.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I’m not going to lie to you, Peter, it might come to nothing.” Peter’s shoulders slumped. “But it might not,” she added encouragingly. “And it’s better to risk being disappointed for a while than to live forever wondering what might have happened.”

“I guess,” he said slowly. “I’m tired now, Aunt May.”

“Okay, my darling,” she said. “Try not to think about him now, okay? Try and sleep.”

“I will. Good night.”

“Good night, Petey. Sleep well.” He pressed the red button and tossed his phone aside. Feeling a little more positive, he went to the door so he could use the bathroom before he went to bed. He pulled the door open; there behind it, Harley stood, barely six inches from Peter’s face.


	4. The Mistake - Harley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley makes a split-second decision, and has to bear the consequences.

Harley sat in the main lounge, his elbows on his knees, brooding. He thought back to the moment earlier in the evening, when he had pinned Peter to the floor. He remembered seeing Peter, looking so raw and open and earnest. His stomach stirred as he thought of the way Peter had almost whispered his name – and then he ran his hands through his hair in frustration as he remembered how he’d lost his nerve and left Peter lying there. He had made a decent show of it, perking himself up and acting as though nothing had happened. Now, though, he was in no doubt – he had wanted to kiss him. And he’d been seconds away from actually going through with it.

Harley took a deep breath and stood up from the couch; he knew what it was he needed to say. He set his mind firmly and started towards Peter’s room. He drew closer and closer to the door, and paused outside just a moment. he took a deep breath and went to knock, when – 

 _Oh._ Harley ground to a halt, his fist half-raised to knock on the door. This suddenly got a lot simpler and a lot more complicated.

“Hey,” Peter said, his voice tired and soft.

“Hi,” Harley mumbled. “I…” Just like that, his brilliantly-prepared speech was gone from his mind. _Fuck it._

“About earlier,” Peter blurted out, but Harley cut him off, cupping Peter’s face in his hands and pressing their lips together. He felt Peter freeze under his touch and a panic switch flipped in Harley’s mind. The kiss lasted barely five seconds before Harley broke away from Peter and stumbled back. He searched Peter’s dark eyes for any betrayal of his thoughts or emotions.

“Sorry,” Harley said, his breath catching in his voice. “I’m sorry.” He turned away from Peter and started to walk away.

“Harley, wait.” He heard Peter talking behind him but didn’t turn back. He walked quickly along the corridor until he turned a corner, when he broke into a run, and didn’t stop until he reached his bedroom.

“FRIDAY, lock the door,” he muttered, and he heard a click from behind him. He leaned against the door and slid down it until he was crumpled in a ball on the floor. _What the hell was I thinking?_ he thought furiously. _I literally met him yesterday and I just fucking kissed him!_ Now Peter would never want to talk to him again, which would be really awkward since they would probably end up working together when Pepper retired. _Terrific job, Harley. Well fucking done._

He heaved himself up from the floor, pulled off his hoodie and jeans and crawled into bed. He groaned as he realised he’d left his phone on the desk on the other side of the room, so dragged himself out of bed to fetch it. Once safe under the covers again, he plugged in his earbuds, pulled up Spotify and hit ‘shuffle’. The first song that came on was _Bad Day_.

“Oh, very funny,” he muttered, and hit skip, only to hear the stray, rhythmic guitar notes of Ed Sheeran’s _Happier_. Skip. A Great Big World, _Say Something_ – skip. Paloma Faith, _Only Love Can Hurt Like This_ – skip. Rihanna, _Stay_ – at this Harley hit ‘pause’, pulled out his earbuds and tossed his phone to the other side of the bed. So, even his music was determined that he should be miserable.

He heard a car pulling up outside, followed by a car door slamming and voices – Tony and Pepper’s. Oh, and Happy’s dulcet tones. Harley hardly cared. He wasn’t about to run downstairs to welcome them back. Instead, he thought of Peter, and wondered what he was doing. God, what would he think of him? “FRIDAY?” he said timidly. A faint blue light in the room told him she was listening. “Is Peter okay?”

“His body temperature is averaging at ninety-eight-point-one degrees, his blood sugar is normal, and he is demonstrating no sign of physical illness.” Harley sighed; this was not exactly what he had meant, but in fairness, he could hardly expect an AI to understand that. “However,” FRIDAY continued, “his resting heart rate is considerably higher than normal, and he is demonstrating signs of emotional distress.” Harley’s eyes widened in horror. He had done it, he had broken Tony’s intern. Fan-fucking-tastic. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He desperately wanted to go and see Peter, to make sure he was alright and apologise. However, based on what FRIDAY had just said, it sounded like Harley would be the last person Peter wanted to see. Moreover, Tony was back now, and the last thing Harley needed was Tony seeing him sneaking into Peter’s room in the dead of night. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” FRIDAY said, politely interrupting his musings.

“Uh, can you show me the sky please?” he mumbled. More than anything now he just needed to sleep. The ceiling flickered and rippled, revealing the cloudless, starry sky above. “Thanks,” he mumbled, and the blue light went out. As he was drifting off, it vaguely occurred to him that he had never thanked an AI before.

 

He did not sleep well. He woke up at least once an hour for the rest of the night until night gave way to the faint twilight of morning. He groaned quietly as his eyes blinked open yet again, and threw back the covers in defeat. Still yawning, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and grabbed a thick pullover. He ran his hands through his unkempt hair, before making his way out to the terrace which overlooked the sea to watch the sunrise. He was surprised to see it already occupied. Tony was leaning over the balcony, gazing out at the ocean and clutching a cup of coffee like a lifeline. He noticed he was wearing the same shirt, pants and waistcoat from the night before. “Have you even been to bed?” Tony turned to look at him and smiled at him, inviting him over.

“Been working,” he said, sipping his coffee. They were silent for a few minutes, until the first sliver of sun crept over the horizon, turning the sky a burnt orange and sending a line of sparkling light dancing across the water. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tony said quietly, and Harley nodded, slightly lost for words.

“How was the party?” Harley said, and Tony shrugged.

“Standard affair. Fancy cocktails, canapés that leave you still feeling hungry and far too many snooty businessmen.”

“Sounds like a wild night,” Harley teased. Tony nudged him with his elbow and smirked.

“What about you, party animal? No, don’t tell me, let me guess – pizza, video games and an accidental makeout session,” Tony said, draining the last of his coffee.

“How… what… how do you know?” Harley spluttered. “Were you _spying_ on us?”

“Not exactly,” Tony said evasively. “I didn’t mean to, honestly. When I got back I asked FRIDAY if everything had been okay.”

“And?”

“And predictably, she went overboard and gave me highlights from the security footage.”

“Of course she did,” Harley sighed. “Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Tony asked, setting the mug down on the balcony wall and putting his arm around Harley’s shoulder. Harley shrugged.

“I shouldn’t have kissed Peter. I upset him.”

“You don’t know that,” said Tony reasonably.

“FRIDAY said he was in ‘emotional distress’,” said Harley anxiously.

“FRIDAY is only capable of logic,” Tony said. “As far as she’s concerned, ‘emotional distress’ signifies a dramatic change in emotion – positive or negative.”

“Really?”

“Really. A few weeks ago, when I was designing the new Spider-Man suit, I accidentally invented nanotech. I was so excited, FRIDAY read my life signs and told Pepper I had taken a mild overdose of ecstasy.” Harley burst out laughing despite himself. Tony grinned. “Don’t take FRIDAY’s word for it. You youngsters rely on technology too much. Talk to Parker – in person.” He clapped Harley’s shoulder and picked the mug up again.

“Thanks, Tony,” he smiled.

“No problem, kiddo. I’ll be down in the lab. Give me one more hour by myself, then you can come down when you like.” Harley nodded. Tony paused as he was leaving. “Oh, and Keener?”

“Yeah?”

“Before you see Parker, take a shower and put on some deodorant. You stink.” Harley flushed.

“Will do. Thanks – I think.” Tony winked and left him.

 

Harley returned to his corridor, but didn’t shower straight away. Instead, he leaned over a notebook at the desk in his room, trying to work out exactly what he needed to say to Peter. He didn’t plan to write him a letter as such, but he knew he couldn’t allow himself to act on impulse again – he had already demonstrated that he was not good at that. “FRIDAY, let me know when Peter gets up, will you?” A blue light blinked an affirmative, and Harley started writing.

 _ ~~Peter, I like you.~~ _He sighed and scratched a line through it. Brief, and to the point – but not an opening line. He tried again.

 _ ~~There’s something I need to say.~~_ Absolutely not. If someone said that to him, he knew he’d immediately start thinking of every terrible possibility of what they were about to say, and he didn’t want to do that to Peter.

 _I’m sorry ~~about last night.~~_ Good, but not overly specific. What was he sorry for, exactly?

 _I’m sorry ~~I kissed you.~~_ Definitely not true, considering that was all he’d wanted to do since the moment Peter had introduced himself.

 _I’m sorry I messed with your head._ That was much better – he had felt stupid for kissing Peter, but he hadn’t felt guilty until FRIDAY had reported that he was upset (despite what Tony thought, he probably was). Harley sighed; he was overthinking this. He tore off the page, poised his pen at the top of the next sheet, and simply wrote the words that came to him.

_I screwed up, and the first thing I want to say is that I’m sorry I messed with your head. I know I probably made you feel uncomfortable, or worse, made you think that what I did wasn’t real. When I kissed you, I meant it. When we wrestled, there was a moment, and I’m sorry if I made you think there wasn’t by pretending it didn’t happen. I guess I_

“Mr Keener?” The faint blue light was back and Harley looked up. “Mr Parker is in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Harley tapped his pen for a moment, then made up his mind, scribbled something down on a fresh sheet of notepaper and folded it up. Once he had showered and dressed, he shoved the note in his pocket for safekeeping and hurried downstairs.

 

Peter was perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, facing away from the door, and turned to look at Harley despite his near-silent approach. Peter scowled at him and turned back to his breakfast.

“I know,” said Harley urgently. “I know I screwed up.”

“Damned right you did,” Peter muttered, not looking up. Harley crossed the room and sat on the opposite side of the bar.

“The first thing I want to say is that I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For messing with your head,” Harley said quietly, and Peter’s knitted eyebrows flickered in surprise. “When I kept leaving, I made it seem like… like I didn’t mean it when I kissed you, or when we wrestled. I really like you, Peter,” he said, his heart hammering under his sweater. “I know we haven’t known each other very long, and we don’t know each other very well yet, but I want to fix both of those things.” He searched Peter’s face, but his handsome features were blank and unreadable. “If you don’t feel the same way I’m sorry, but I didn’t want you to leave without having said that.” Peter still said nothing, staring at a point over Harley’s shoulder. “Say something,” Harley pleaded. “Even if it’s telling me to fuck off,” he added, in a lame attempt at humour. Finally Peter met his eyes.

“I’m not going to say that,” he said softly. “But you did hurt me. I like you too, Harley,” he said, and Harley’s heart leaped. “But I think I need some time to work out how I feel.”

“What?”

“I’m not like you,” Peter said, his voice growing in confidence. “I couldn’t walk up to a boy – or anyone – and kiss them just like that. Hell, you’re the first boy I’ve ever even liked.” Now it was Harley’s turn to be rendered speechless. Peter stood up and took his cereal bowl to the dishwasher. “Catch you later, Harley.”

“Can I kiss you again?” Harley burst out, unable to contain himself. Peter paused at the door, but didn’t look back at him.

“Not right now. Sorry.” And with that, he was gone, leaving Harley alone and shocked once again.


	5. Under Attack - Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's unstable emotions come to a head - and another problem starts to arise, too.

Peter almost ran out of the room, unsure why he was quite as angry as he felt. No, not angry. Just hurt and confused. If Harley liked him, why had he left? Why had he then waited eight hours to come back to put him out of his misery? He had a lot to think about, and what Peter could not fathom was how Harley had the audacity to ask to kiss him again, when he didn’t even want to _look_ at Harley right now.

He sat at the desk in his room, working on a Spanish paper that was technically due three days ago. Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck rose up; he looked up from his homework and frowned. “FRIDAY?” A blue light blinked on. “Who’s here?”

“You and Mr Keener,” the AI intoned.

“Where’s Mr Stark? Pepper? Happy?”

“Mr Stark is attending a meeting with the director of the CIA. Miss Potts and her security team are at a business proposal meeting in the city.”

Peter thought about this for a moment. “Can I see the security footage from the front gates?”

“Sorry, Mr Parker,” FRIDAY said. “You are not cleared to have such information.”

“Are you kidding?” Peter rolled his eyes and crossed the room; as he approached the secret cupboard, the wall spun around to reveal his suit hung up within. He grabbed the mask and pulled it on. “Karen, can you show me the security footage from the front gates?”

“Nice try, Peter,” said the gentle but cheerful voice of his AI. “But I can’t do that either.”

“Screw it,” he muttered, “I’ll do it myself.” He tugged off his pyjamas and pulled on the suit instead. He wasn’t sure what, but something was definitely wrong – or about to be. He prised the window open and swung out onto the outside wall, closing it quietly behind him, before crawling up to the roof. “Okay, Karen, what can you tell me?” For the first time ever, his question was met with silence. “Karen?”

“Hey, Spider-Man,” Karen’s voice said. “Sorry, the reception cut out for a moment there. There appears to be no danger.” Peter’s spider-sense was now screaming at him, and with good reason – it appeared someone had hacked his suit. He wasn’t sure who, and he wasn’t sure how, but Karen always called him Peter, and the reported lack of threat was definitely absolute bullshit. What he knew, though, was that his suit, although it responded at the speed of thought, it couldn’t actually read his mind, so as long as he played along, he might be able to fend off the apparent cyber-attack.

He suddenly had a horrible thought – if Karen was compromised, FRIDAY might be as well, which meant Harley was in danger too. Peter thought fast. First he had to ditch Karen without appearing to be suspicious. He swung back into his bedroom and put his suit back in its cupboard. _First rule of being watched,_ he thought, _never give away that you’re doing something suspicious._ Then he grabbed his Spanish homework, a notepad and pen and walked nonchalantly out of the compound, smiling at the security camera as he left. “Are you leaving?” FRIDAY asked.

Observation: she had not used his name. Inference: FRIDAY, too, had indeed been hacked. Conclusion: whoever was now controlling the AI did not know his name, nor that he was Spider-Man. If he was right, this was a useful advantage. “Yes,” he said confidently. “I’m taking a lunch break to work on my Spanish homework. If Mr Stark comes back, tell him I’ll be about an hour.”

“Affirmative,” the phoney AI said, and Peter walked out, feeling pleased with himself. He wandered casually away, until he was confident that he was out of earshot, before slumping down under a tree and opening the notepad. He clicked his pen a few times whilst he thought. He wrote _what I know_ in the middle of the page, circled it, and twirled the pen in his hand. What conclusions could he draw?

 

So, someone had successfully hacked the compound’s mainframe, which meant whomever he was dealing with, they were a genius. The only person whom Peter knew had ever hacked Stark technology was Ned. Come to think of it, if a fifteen-year-old had managed it, maybe it wasn’t as secure as his mentor liked to believe. Peter shook off this thought and kept writing.

He could no longer trust FRIDAY or Karen; this was clear. Unfortunately, this meant he probably couldn’t use his suit, or at least the majority of it. He had had the good sense to slip the detachable webshooters into his pocket, but that was about as much as he had. No drone. No means of switching the web functions. No gadgets. No parachute, not that he had reinstalled it (still). No scanner. If Peter was going to stop this threat, he either had to retrieve his old home-made suit or go in completely ‘acoustic’, as it were, and not use any suit at all. Neither prospect filled him with enthusiasm.

His next thought went to Harley. Regardless of his current mixed feelings for him, Peter had to get him on his side, and fill him in on what had happened, without arousing suspicion. He couldn’t just waltz in and tell him, because there were cameras in all the shared rooms, and FRIDAY – or whoever was controlling her – could easily pick up on their conversation. Nor could he particularly ask him to join him outside without a specific reason, because that was definitely suspicious. And if this person had hacked the compound, they could probably access the cell satellites serving it. This predicament rendered his cell phone entirely useless.

Peter rubbed his temples and took a deep breath, trying to stave off the rising panic that he could feel building in his chest. Whoever might want to hack the Avengers was almost certainly bad news. He momentarily wondered if the new suit Tony had made him had an AI installed, and if he could take that instead. No, too risky. That room had cameras, too. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. What if the hacker _did_ become aware that Peter knew something? Maybe there was a solution that worked to his advantage after all.

 

He ran back into the compound, visibly distressed. “Harley!” he shouted. “Harley, where are you?”

There was a clatter of feet on the stairs and the other boy appeared, looking perplexed.

“Peter? What’s wrong?”

“Come with me, quickly,” he panted. “There’s something outside the compound you need to see.” He beckoned to Harley then hurried back outside. Harley ran after him; when he had caught up, Peter hissed, “Say nothing, keep running.” Harley could sense something was up, and obeyed until they reached a lonely part of the boundary fence.

“Okay, when are you… going to tell me… what the hell… is going on?” Harley gasped, as he leaned forward to catch his breath. Peter, however, had hardly broken a sweat.

“We’re under attack,” Peter said. “Someone’s hacked into the compound’s systems and has taken over FRIDAY.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Harley scoffed. “It’s impossible.”

“I’d swear to it.” Harley examined his face for a moment, then his eyes widened.

“Oh my god, you’re serious.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

“What do we do?” said Harley. “Do we call Tony?”

“Ideally, yes,” Peter nodded, “but he’ll come as Iron Man.”

“Oh,” said Harley. “ _Oh._ ”

“Exactly. FRIDAY’s in his suit.”

“Well, shit,” Harley said flatly. “What about the other Avengers? What about Spider-Man?” Peter was silent for a moment. “Peter?”

“There’s something I should tell you,” he said slowly. Harley waited, but Peter didn’t elaborate.

“What?”

“I’m Spider-Man.” His voice was soft but betrayed a confidence, and Peter knew Harley believed him.

“Huh,” he said slowly. “Well then, I guess I should thank you for saving my ass yesterday morning.”

“God, was it only yesterday?” Peter chuckled. “Anyway, my suit has an AI in it as well, which is also compromised.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“We need to trace the hacker back to the source,” Peter said. “Without Mr Stark, without AIs, and without any tech. Hardly a playground exercise.”

“Well, let’s think this through,” Harley said, running his hands through his hair. “First things first, we’ve gotta get out of here. What were you thinking, running in like someone possessed? Now whoever the hacker is knows you’re onto them.”

“Simple,” said Peter, grabbing his arm and starting to run back to the compound. “All their attention will now be focused on the cameras looking outside the compound, rather than the internal ones.” Harley broke into a jog, and Peter could see he was trying to process this. “Just get us a ride out of here, okay?” Peter called over his shoulder.

 

Peter slipped back into the building and vaulted over the stairwell, landing gently on the basement floor outside the lab. He approached the lab doors and let out a silent groan – he would have to enter his keycode to gain access to the room – a process that went through FRIDAY. He briefly considered his options. Whatever he did now, FRIDAY would become aware of his presence. If he entered the keycode, she would inevitably deny him access, and the room would go on lockdown. If, however, he broke in, there would be nothing to stop him getting what he needed. Time to road-test the elasticated webs, it seemed. He took a deep breath – fighting a maniac with massive metal wings was one thing; fighting an artificial intelligence which was programmed to think creatively was a whole other ball game.

He stepped up to the lab’s big windows and activated his webshooters. One of them crept up his left arm, revealing a control pad. Oh, so he could manually activate his different web gadgets. _Finally, some good news,_ he thought as he selected the elastic webs. He then fired a shot from each hand, close enough to the glass that the web was only two inches long. He then started walking slowly backwards, towards the wall behind him. He could feel the webs tensing as they stretched. “Don’t break, don’t break, please don’t break…” he hissed until he felt his back brush the wall. He swallowed hard and jumped into the air. He shot towards the window and he thrust his legs forwards for maximum impact. He felt a jolt of pain as his feet made contact with the glass, followed by a loud shattering sound as it gave way. He detached the webs and rolled across the ground, feeling a sting on his face and hands. He got to his feet and winced as he pulled a few shards of glass from his palms and cheeks.

“You shouldn’t be here,” said FRIDAY’s voice, colder than usual.

“Yeah, and the President shouldn’t be in the Oval Office, yet here we are,” said Peter, more boldly than he felt. He marched to his desk and fitted the prototype trip mines to his webshooters. He had time to make a quick modification to his wrist controls before an alarm sounded, indicating that FRIDAY was putting the lab into lockdown. “Shit,” Peter breathed. The lab’s four-inch blast doors were lowering over the windows. As he ran to the window he had broken, he shot out a web to retrieve the hand-repulsors Harley had been working on. On impulse, he threw his hand out to web something from Tony’s desk as he rolled under the blast doors, half a second before they closed, sealing off the lab.

“Nice work…” sneered FRIDAY. “…Spider-Man.” Well, there went his element of surprise. He swung up to the floor above and fled out of the main doors.

“Peter!” Harley was waving from the window of a small car; Peter sprinted over to him and leaped onto the roof. “What are you doing? Get in!”

“No, trust me,” Peter called out. “Just go!” Harley floored it, and the car started with a squeal of tyres. They made their way down the long driveway towards the main gates. As they drew closer, Peter jumped off the car and started swinging ahead as quickly as he could. “Don’t slow down!” he yelled back at Harley.

“What?” Harley shouted back, but Peter didn’t answer. He landed on the other side of the gates, rolling once to break his fall. He heard Harley sound the horn, shot out two webs onto the gates and heaved. The horn kept going and Peter pulled harder; they started to creak. Harley was seconds away from ploughing straight into them. Peter gave one huge, final effort, and the gates flew off their hinges. Harley immediately shot past him, and Peter latched on, before sliding through the passenger window. Harley glanced over, his face white as a sheet. “You’re insane,” he breathed shakily. Peter just laughed. “Anyway,” said Harley, clearly trying hard to keep his voice steady, “where are we going?”

“I’m not sure,” Peter said, pulling out his phone. “For now, aim for the city. We need to trace the source of the hacker’s technology.”

“How do we do that?” Harley asked, glancing in the rear-view mirror as he pulled onto the freeway.

“Well,” said Peter thoughtfully, “if we also hack into FRIDAY, we could reverse-engineer the hacking software and pinpoint their location.”

“Wonderful,” said Harley sarcastically. “So all we have to do is access the controls of the most advanced artificial intelligence on the planet.”

“Exactly,” Peter said, a smile forming. “I told you we should be nice to AIs.” Harley punched him playfully on the shoulder.

“Douchebag,” he muttered, grinning. “Can you do it?” Peter nodded.

“I think so. It’ll take a bit of time, though.” Silence fell as Peter meddled with both his phone and his wrist controls. As he worked, Peter considered bringing up the elephant in the room (car?). If things went south, he would want to have told Harley how he felt. On the other hand –

“Hey, what’s all the stuff you threw on my back seat?” Harley asked suddenly.

“Oh, that’s for you,” Peter said, not looking up. “If the shit hits the fan, you’re going to want some weapons.”

“Sweet, what’d you get me?”

“Just the hand-repulsors you were working on yesterday,” Peter shrugged. “Oh, and I stole a pair of Mr Stark’s levitation boot attachments.” Harley gave a low whistle.

“That’s dope,” he breathed. “Man, Tony is going to kill us when he finds out.”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not we succeed,” Peter said, frowning at his wrist controls. “Okay, I think I’ve done it.”

“Seriously? Already?”

“I mean, I’m hacking a ridiculously advanced AI, so it’s not exactly precise,” Peter admitted. “Head for Times Square. Whoever we’re looking for – they’re around there somewhere.”

 

Harley parked a few blocks away, then once they were both fully equipped, they walked over to Times Square – as casually as they could, so as to not attract attention. What couldn’t escape their notice, however, was how there was nobody around to notice them at all.

“Why is it so quiet?” Harley murmured, and Peter shrugged. “Oh.” All of a sudden it became clear why the popular tourist attraction was deserted. Peter suddenly felt Harley’s hand in his own, and he glanced over to him and squeezed his hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly. “We got this.”

“How sure are you?” Harley said breathlessly, still looking up at this new threat. Peter found that he had no answer.


	6. In the Midst of the Storm - Harley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Harley face this new threat - together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 updates in 24 hours? You're welcome!
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I daresay this won't be the last story I write for these boys, so... until the next time!

“Tell me – are you stupidly brave, or just stupid?” the hovering man sneered down at the two boys. It seemed to Harley that lightning was shooting out of his feet, keeping him suspended in mid-air. “I told everyone to clear this area.”

“And I told you that three consecutive life sentences wasn’t long enough, _Electro,_ ” Peter yelled back, spitting out the last word. “Yet here we are.”

“Stupidly brave it is,” Electro said, curling up his fist. “I was looking forward to watching the two of you die. My associate made me promise not to kill any civilians,” he added thoughtfully. “But guess what?” he continued, his eyes glinting with gleeful menace. “I lied.” He punched the air in front of him and a bright yellow bolt of electricity flew through the air.

“Peter!” Harley shouted, making to shove him out of the way, but Peter had already dived clear. He jumped back onto his feet again, threw a hand forward and let out a long web line. It struck Electro in the chest, and Peter yanked on the string. Electro gave a yell of surprise and fell a few feet, before seizing the web in his fist and sending a thousand volts of electricity pulsing down it, blasting Peter off his feet. On instinct, Harley emitted a blast from his hand repulsor, throwing Electro to the ground.

“Harley, run,” Peter panted, forcing himself to his feet.

“Like hell I’m going to do that,” Harley hissed back, and Peter didn’t ask him again. Instead, Harley watched him turn back to Electro, who was also getting to his feet.

“You underestimated us, I think,” Peter said, loudly and confidently. Harley felt he was putting it on, but said nothing.

“I certainly did,” Electro said, grinning maniacally. “This day just got even better – not only do I get to kill you, the world gets to see Spider-Man as he really is.” He turned his face to Harley, and Peter drew closer until he was standing almost in front of him. A rather pointless gesture, Harley thought, considering Peter was two inches shorter than him, but a touching one nonetheless. “But who is this?” Electro asked innocently. “My associate didn’t tell me there’d be another one. He said I could have both Spider-Man and Iron Man at once, but he didn’t tell me Spider-Man had a _boyfriend_ I could torture for fun too.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Peter spat, his hands curling into fists.

“Well, well,” Electro chuckled. “So you are protecting him.”

“Who’s your associate?” Harley asked, peering over Peter’s shoulder. Electro looked amused.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yeah, actually, we would,” Peter interjected.

“The kid’s a genius,” Electro said, shaking his head. “Would you believe a high-schooler managed to hack Tony Stark?” He grinned at their bemused faces. “Oh, yes. I’m not about to start monologuing, but I will say this: watching the Avengers tear themselves apart like a group of petty schoolchildren was highly amusing. I can’t wait to finish the job by taking down Iron Man and Spider-Man in one day.”

“A… a high-schooler?” Peter faltered.

“Hang on,” said a voice from behind Harley and Peter. “I thought you said we were catching Spider-Man?” Harley and Peter turned to see a boy Harley did not recognise, but he noticed Peter close his eyes in desperation and curse under his breath. “What’s this shit-bag doing here?”

“Use your brain, Thompson,” said Electro. “Who do you think he is?”

“Oh, come on,” said Flash, looking deeply disappointed. “ _You’re_ Spider-Man? And I thought he was cool.”

“ _You_ hacked the Avengers compound?” said Peter in disbelief.

“Yeah,” said Flash smugly. “See what good I can do when you’re not showing me up?”

“You show yourself up,” Peter shot back. “Just by kind of… showing up.”

“Whatever, Parker,” Flash said angrily. “You just showed yourself up – by turning your back.” Another bolt of lightning hit both of them in the back. Flash ran to Peter and gave him a swift kick to the face, for good measure. Peter let out a cry of pain; Harley rolled onto his back and shot his repulsor at Peter’s tormentor. Flash was blasted into the air and crashed into a hot-dog stand on the other side of the street.

“Look out!” Peter shouted, and Harley dove out of the way. “Harley! Get off the ground!” He ran and jumped, webbing the nearest building. Harley activated the levitators which he had hooked up to his Converse and shot into the air. He wobbled a little as he became accustomed to the flight patterns.

“Very clever,” said Electro. “A new Iron Man, perhaps?”

“Perhaps.” Harley’s eyes flickered to the left as Peter swung around, giving Electro a swift kick to the face, which Harley followed up with a repulsor blast to the chest.

“Get his harness off!” Peter called. “It helps him control his power!”

“Surely that’s good?” Harley shouted back, as he blasted a lightning bolt to deflect it. “We don’t want his power loose!”

“But all the while he can control it,” Peter explained patiently, “He can use it against us!” He shot out a flurry of webs, momentarily pinning the electrical maniac to the nearest building. Electro tensed, sending current surging through the webs restraining him, burning them up instantaneously.

 

They had risen about seventy feet into the air when Peter suddenly abandoned the fight, diving down and hurtling towards the ground.

“Where the hell are you going?” Harley yelled, slickly dodging another of Electro’s blasts. Taking a chance, he thrust his hands down, boosting the thrusters to keep himself airborne. He then thrust his feet forwards, boosting those thrusters to maximum as they came into contact with Electro’s chest-plate. Electro shot backwards from the force, smashing through a window of an office building. “Yes!” Harley shouted delightedly, as Electro emerged from the building, looking mutinous. A large crack ran from the top of his harness to the bottom, splitting it in two.

“You’re going to regret that,” Electro snarled. “No Spider-Man to protect you now, is there?” Harley snorted.

“I might rather like that clown, but I’m quite capable of surviving without him.”

“We’ll see,” Electro smiled. He curled his hands into fists again, his hands starting to spark. Harley steeled himself, ready for impact. Electro shot out two high-voltage blasts, one from each fist, and as Harley boosted out of the way, something near him exploded.

 

As the smoke dissipated, he heard a yell of, “ _YOU BASTARD!”_ from below them. Both Harley and Electro looked down – Peter had swiped Flash’s phone and control panel, and had hurled them into the path of Electro’s lightning bolts.

“Congratulations, Buzz-Brain,” Peter shouted, swinging upwards and wrapping himself around Harley in a piggyback. “Your genius’ hacking tech is now nothing but cinders. You just destroyed your only leverage.”

“And you know what that means?” Harley added cheerfully, slightly increasing his feet thrusters to accommodate Peter's weight. “With the tech destroyed, FRIDAY’s back in business.”

“Oh, sh–” Electro’s expletive was cut off by a beam of bright yellow light hitting him square in the face.

“Good job, Spider-Man,” said Tony Stark, his characteristic dry voice vaguely muffled by Iron Man’s metal casing. “I’ll take it from here. FRIDAY, how are we looking?”

“The perpetrator is unconscious, Boss.” Tony hummed his approval, then held up a fist; two energy-restraining cuffs shot out, wrapping themselves around Electro’s wrists and ankles.

“Kids, arrest the brat in the street, will you?”

“Oh, it would be my pleasure,” said Peter, his voice dripping with venom. They dropped down, both landing suitably – and deliberately – dramatically: legs bowed, one fist to the ground. Harley winked at Peter, who addressed Flash. “Consider this a citizen’s arrest, Flash.”

“You think you’re so clever,” hissed Flash. “But I’m gonna tell everyone you’re Spider-Man. There goes your precious secret identity, hey, Penis?”

“Big talk,” said Peter, grinning. “But firstly, no one will ever believe you. And second? Even if they did, that makes you the loser who set up a fanpage on Facebook for Peter Parker.” Flash opened his mouth to retort, and to Harley’s satisfaction, he had no quip with which to retaliate. Peter held out a hand and webbed Flash’s feet to the ground. “Enjoy community service, asshole.”

 

That evening, Harley collapsed onto the couch next to Peter in the compound’s common room. Tony was in the lab, tinkering. Pepper was also in the lab, coercing him into making a public statement about the day’s events. Once again, the two boys found themselves alone.

“Hey, Harley?” The two were already in their pyjamas, and Peter lolled his head lazily to the side to look at his companion. “Thanks for today. Legitimately couldn’t have done it without you.”

Harley shrugged. “Likewise.”

“You were a natural with those repulsors. You ever considered persuading Mr Stark to train you up as an Avenger?”

“Nah,” said Harley, the corners of his eyes crinkling mischievously. “Way more fun to watch you get beaten up.” Peter shoved him light-heartedly, and Harley pushed him back. Peter chuckled gently, and suddenly Harley was very aware of the same tension between them. Almost like electricity, if he was being ironically fanciful. He turned ninety degrees so he was facing Peter on the couch. “Hey, about last night…” he said .

“Shut up,” said Peter softly. “I don’t want to talk. I’m tired of talking. Can’t we just…” He trailed off, apparently nervous.

“Do it,” Harley breathed. Peter stalled half a second more, before leaning in, closing his eyes and kissing Harley, firmly but hesitantly. Harley responded in earnest, and Peter seemed to grow in confidence. Harley placed on hand on his cheek, and felt Peter’s hand running through his hair. They broke apart and sat still for a moment, foreheads pressed together, just being. Presently Harley felt a bizarre impulse to laugh, and grinned, struggling to stifle it. Peter sensed it, and smiled too.

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Harley admitted, kissing him again. “I guess it’s just been a weird day.”

“Huh,” said Peter, shifting his face to one side and kissing him on the cheek, then moving downwards towards his jawline. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, sure, every day’s like this for you,” Harley chuckled. “My mistake.”

“Well, really,” Peter said, his voice low, making Harley shiver, “we should have just said ‘fuck it’ to the threat of a maniac trying to destroy us and just done this all day.” Harley felt Peter’s lips on his own and smiled despite himself.

“Well, I believe we have all day tomorrow,” Harley murmured. “We certainly have the rest of the evening, at least.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” said a stern voice. Harley and Peter immediately shot to opposite ends of the couch, dampening the spark in the atmosphere in seconds. Tony and Pepper stood at the top of the basement stairs, clearly trying not to look amused. “Not on my couch, you don’t.”

“Tony,” Pepper tutted. “He’s right, though, you don’t have all day. Peter, I believe you have a Spanish project to complete, and Harley, you’re shadowing me tomorrow, remember?” Harley caught Peter’s eyebrow and twitched an eyebrow.

“I remember.”

“You did good today,” said Tony. “We’re going to bed. Uh, enjoy the rest of the evening, I guess.”

“Thanks, Mr Stark,” Peter said earnestly, and Harley grinned fondly.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” said Tony, winking. Pepper whacked his arm.

“Yeah, and nothing you would do either,” Peter finished. “We know.”

“What were we doing?” Harley said, feigning confusion, once Tony and Pepper were gone.

“Oh, we were in the middle of something very important.” Peter smiled mischievously.

“Funny, I can’t remember,” said Harley. “Oh, well. Can I have that kiss now?”

Peter pretended to consider it. “Well… I think that could be arranged, don’t you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you liked it, please leave a comment! I take prompts for one-shot fics for any fandom I've already written (and any others I'm interested in) - send me a message / ask on Tumblr (@tea-for-one-please) if you're interested!


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